Beneath the Sheets
by SnapDragon1317
Summary: Harry can't sleep without Draco. But Draco will never tell Harry what really goes on beneath the sheets, because after all...he's Potter. And Draco is Malfoy. HPDM ONESHOT SLASH


Just like every night, Harry rolled over and said, "You don't _have_ to stay."

I gritted my teeth. Didn't he see that I stayed because I wanted to? Because maybe, _oh-I-don't-know_ , I liked it? Because he _needed_ me? Because this was _important_ to me?

"Warmer over here," I said tersely. Harry should never see how much this meant to me.

He just grunted, closing his eyes. "Not like you're gonna _sleep,_ Malfoy."

Slap. In the face. I winced. Every time he said that - dammit, did he _have_ to bring that up? I slept. Some. Late at night, when everyone else was breathing heavy, I drifted off. I _could_ sleep without the drugs, without the pills...just...not very much.

"I am not insomniac," I said haughtily, hating him, _hating_ him. Damned Potter. Why couldn't he want me sleeping with him? Hell knew he _needed me_ in the bed. Why couldn't he _like_ it?

"Whatever." He didn't open his eyes and he didn't look at me. He didn't touch my face and trace my lips. He didn't grip my shoulders and dig his nails into my back. He didn't breath, _"I love you, Draco,"_ and he _didn't fucking mean it._

But once his breathing slowed and he started to fuss, plagued by his nightmares, he _did._

He started out by whining, gripping his blanket to his chest and scrabbling with his fingers, searching for a hold on something, anything. His face scrunched up and those pathetic _needy_ sounds whimpered out of his mouth, until I couldn't take it. Until I gave in. Until I rolled over and pried the blanket out of his death grasp - earning the loudest whine yet - and pushed myself close to his body.

 _I'm not doing this for me. I am not doing this for me,_ I reminded myself as my face heated up. _I am_ not _doing this for me._

Harry cooed with delight, wrapping his arms around me haphazardly, clutching my t-shirt. He buried his face in my neck, making those damned _adorable_ sounds and _oh shit this - this - this_ feeling - _oh shit -_

I bit back the whine scratching at the back of my throat as he started suckling on my neck, grazing the sensitive skin and - _damn you feel too good, too good, too - ohhh -_ "Ohhh, Potter," I gasped. "Don't - "

He sucked harder, and I just gasped and fretted and squirmed in our awkward tangle of arms and legs and - oh shit, _legs._ "Potter..." I hissed, but _hell_ if I wasn't enjoying this, this, this...what was it? What were _we_? His ice-cold hands touched bare skin just beneath my shirt, and I whisper-shrieked and forgot - forgot -

"Ahh..." sighed Harry, happier than ever, and did I _mention_ that some weird shit made him happy? Damned if I knew why this was the only thing that kept the nightmares away - sex dreams, I guessed, but where I fit into _that_ I wasn't sure - and - and - oh shit he need to _stop that -_

His fingers brushed my sides, checking me, checking to make _sure_ that it was me, because he'd fuss and fret if it wasn't. Ginny, Harry's girlfriend, told me that. _"He'd fall asleep and start cuddling me and everything would be fine, until he'd notice that I didn't have your freakin'_ scars _and then it'd be all over."_

Satisfied, Harry cooed again and nuzzled my collar. His hot breath made me feel faint, or maybe that was the blood pulsing all through my body and _aching -_ oh, hell was I ever _aching._ Potter should _not_ have this effect on me. He should not - _oh shit._

He was kissing at me again, and what kind of a _creep_ kissed someone in their sleep - but did it matter - because this felt _so good._ And he was _so soft._ And all of this was _too much,_ too _hot,_ too _sweaty,_ too - too -

 _I am not doing this for me!_

His tongue slipped over the little hollow in my throat and I whimpered before realizing it. His hands clutched at my ribs, brushing the soft - _sensitive -_ skin and oh shit did he even _realize_ what he was doing to me? This feeling was...was too much. The heat was building and I couldn't take it and did he even know what a fuckin' _tease_ he was? And why did I _let_ him do this to me again? Because he was my - he was my -

My _nothing._

I let out a sort of sob and moan as Harry kissed along my jawbone. His mouth felt so damn good - _I am not doing this for me_ \- but he was still my nothing. These...these...these _feelings_ didn't change _us..._ didn't change the fact that we weren't _anything,_ anything except a couple of guys who needed each other to sleep -

"Mmm..." went Harry, snuggling closer, his open mouth dangerously close to mine. I could barely see him in the darkness, but I knew every freckle on his face - _I am not doing this for me_ \- and the little dimple in his right cheek - and oh _damn_ I wanted to kiss him so bad -

"Mm." He pushed his face closer, needy, demanding. My heart thumped and my ears flushed and _how_ could he be so active in his sleep? He _couldn't_ be getting any rest - "Mmm," he sighed, pressing his cheek to mine, snuggling in. _Taking over._ He had me wound around his finger and, oh, he knew it.

His hands pushed into my stomach, searching. I swallowed and choked and moaned out, " _Harry_ " but he didn't stop. Hell, when did he _ever_ listen to me, awake or not? I closed my eyes tight and shifted uncomfortably against his too-hot body, reminding myself - _I am not doing this for me._

His probing fingers found the waist of my pajama pants and - oh _shit -_ lower, and I gasped and clutched at him and pressed my face into the pillow - and - " _Harry!"_ \- and heat rushed all along my body and _don't get turned on, don't get turned on -_

Humming appreciatively, Harry nudged his knee between my legs and _oh shit why do I do this -_ and I _lost - all - coherent - thought -_

 _I hate Harry Potter._

He quieted down eventually, arms wrapped around me and blankets tangled over us and pillows thrown aside or forgotten. His breathing quickened every so often, like he was about to wake up, and I hushed him, soothingly, hating him. Why the _hell_ did I do this? Why did I fucking _care_ so much about him? So he had nightmares and couldn't sleep unless someone slept with him. So what? If wasn't like he fucking _loved_ me for what I did for him! I was the only one who - who -

 _I hate this._

As morning crept up, slowly, exhaustingly, I nudged what was left of my thumb between his lips and he sucked readily. He'd always suck his own thumb at night if I wasn't there, and it was one of the most adorable things I'd ever seen. It calmed me down, somehow, but I wasn't...doing this... _yawn_...for me...

I think I slept, some, but restless and aching and unsatisfied. I jerked back to consciousness with my body raging angrily at me, pissed off at Harry and _needing_ relief. I groaned... _too early, too tired, not enough sleep..._ but I never got enough sleep...so I rolled out of his bed.

Harry cried out, arms grasping at the empty blankets. He always missed me when I left. He whimpered, curling up into a ball, and if it wasn't so close to waking-up time he'd probably pee himself. _Pathetic kid._ Why did I love such a pathetic kid? It hurt, hurt, hurt...hurt that I couldn't wake up next to him, because he'd never forgive me if he found me in his arms. We were _just friends._ He'd never let me sleep with him again, and then he'd never sleep again, and then he'd end up like me. _Insomniac._

It hurt. That he only missed me when I left.

 _But I'm not doing this for me._

 **A/N: Thanks so much for reading! This is a one-shot, but I could be persuaded to write more if you guys liked it :)**

 **Please review!**


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